


Sins of the Past

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, Disturbing Themes, M/M, Mystery, Snarry-A-Thon16, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unspeakable Snape finds himself working a case where children are abducted and killed. To find the murderer—and quick—he resorts to recruiting Ex-Auror Harry. They need to hurry or the next child will be found dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite know where this particular bunny came from. Possibly from reading too many crime novels. But I promise it's not as dire as it sounds. Thank you so much badgerlady great and speedy beta-services and also a big thank you to torino10154 for the flexibility! <3

"No," Harry said emphatically, crossing his arms. "Forget it."

Snape just looked at him with those black eyes of his. Harry was never sure what or who exactly Snape was looking at. It was probably why Snape was so good at staring people down. Didn't hurt his job as an Unspeakable with a specialisation as Legilimens either. Harry's shields held up well, though, no matter that ten years had passed since he had to use them during active duty. 

"I'm not doing it," Harry said, redundantly, when Snape gave him nothing but the silent treatment. He turned around and sat back down at his desk, hoping Snape would leave if Harry just ignored him. He tried concentrating on the piece of wood in front of him that was supposed to become a broom. Before Snape had decided to grace his workshop with his presence, Harry had had an idea how to work this piece, what the shape it should take, and how the magic in it should react when the broom was in use. But his inspiration was gone now, as was his cool. He slowly ran his shaking hand over the wood.

"Potter."

Harry closed his eyes. "I said goodbye to that life ten years ago. It's over. Buried."

"Obviously, it's not over. He's killed again."

"No." Harry jumped up, hands hitting his desk hard. A mug of coffee that had long gone cold shook dangerously. "No, he hasn't. He's dead!"

"Apparently it's not that simple. It's the same pattern like in the case you worked back then. The same _exact_ pattern, down to those little details that were never released to the public."

Harry shook his head. "It can't be. I took him out!"

"I read the files," Snape said. "Our theory is that the perpetrator that you killed had a partner." Harry winced at the choice of words. He never was comfortable in taking another life, no matter the circumstances. “We don't know why he hasn't killed in those past ten years, but we believe he's at it again.”

Harry's heart beat fast. For so long, he'd tried to repress the memories that had ultimately led to him quitting the force. But he remembered those crime scenes as if he'd visited them just yesterday. Blood coagulating on the floor, blowflies sitting lazily on the bodies until someone came too close and stirred them up. The dead had been staged in the goriest fashion, most on the ground. The last one, however, had been special: Magic was still holding the body up in the air where it spun around slowly, as if it was putting on a show for the Aurors that had found it. The oldest victim had been twelve. 

“What's that got to do with me?” Harry asked, taking shallow breaths, trying not to be sick.

“You found the lair the last time. You stopped him.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Reading old case files has only gotten us so far. We need your insights.” 

Harry shook his head. “She got killed because of me.”

Snape's face twisted into an angry grimace. “Of all the egocentric, narcissistic things—“

“She died, because I couldn't believe that a man such as Felix Blibbright, a fellow Auror, was the killer we were looking for. Because I took his side instead of trusting the evidence. Because instead of casting a tracking spell to find him, I combed through the files again, trying to find something that would lead to a different conclusion. And it's also my fault because I still didn't use a tracking spell on him when I found none. Instead I Apparated to his home and found out from his wife that he had started disappearing regularly. Had I tracked him down right away, I would have been able to keep that girl from being tortured and murdered. I would have found her in time. But I waited more than twelve hours.”

Snape was speechless for a while then. Those details hadn't found their way into the files, Harry was sure of it. He quit and his superiors closed the files, because the whole bloody mess was nothing but an embarrassment to the department. A tragedy, really, but bureaucrats didn't use that kind of language. 

Harry sighed and no longer tried to mask his trembling. “Now that you know, would you please leave? I can't help you.”

Snape cleared his throat. Harry knew the look he gave him. Snape wasn't about to back down. “But you found him, in the end. You were the only one to read the evidence right.”

Harry nodded. That he had. No one in the department had drawn the same conclusions that he had, that much was clear. If he hadn't put a stop to Felix, he would have killed more children. But that didn't make it any better. "Eventually, yes." Harry sighed. "Look, I don't have time for this. I have clients. I can't just leave and—"

"You have a mail-order business, Potter. Nobody comes in here. You've been holed up for years and you basically don't leave your house. Your clients mail you their instructions and you make brooms for them. Which takes weeks. Looking through the files for a day won't put you behind on your schedule all that much. Besides, it's not as if anyone would notice you aren't in your workshop."

Harry shook his head. Maybe he could afford to leave the broom alone for another day, but that didn't mean he wanted to. He had a bloody good reason to quit the force, after all. But before he could launch into another protest, Snape's wristband gave off a chime. Harry's heart jumped as it had when he had been the one wearing a wristband like that. Every investigator—both Aurors and Unspeakables—would wear one in order to have headquarters be able to convey information that couldn't be overheard as a Patronus could be. Harry had always felt reminded of the coins Hermione had created for every member of Dumbledore's Army. 

Snape unlocked the wristband with a spell and read the info he'd been sent. When he looked up, his face looked ashen. "Another child has been taken."

Harry closed his eyes briefly and got up. "I'm going to need a drink." 

"That's your response? To hole up at home and resort to getting drunk?"

Harry shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant." He summoned his robe. "If you want me to look at the case, I'm not doing it sober. I need something to drink."

Snape blinked, a little taken aback by Harry's change of mind. But what did he expect? That Harry would just ignore the fact that another child was in danger? If he didn't help them now, he could just as well put another child's death on his conscience. "I can get someone to bring us the files here."

"No. I don't have any alcohol at my house." He had banned his whisky and gin when he'd quit, knowing it would be too tempting to drown his memories in them. Ever since then, if he wanted a drink he needed to leave home. 

"Well, we can't go to a bar."

"I imagine we can't," Harry said, locking the door to his workshop behind them. "I trust you have something to drink at your place?" When Snape nodded, Harry took Snape's arm and let him Disapparate them to his house.

******

Snape house wasn't what Harry would have expected. He'd imagined Snape to treat it as a place where he ate and slept. Something functional, where he went between his long shifts. Instead, Snape's place was almost cosy. But even high bookcases, a fireplace and comfortable chairs didn't keep Harry from feeling chilled to the bone.

They had spread out the case file on the table in front of them, tumblers filled with whisky leaving rings of condensed water on the wood. The case really was too similar to the one ten years ago to be a coincidence—from the way the children had been kidnapped, to the way their little bodies had been found. Harry took another sip from his whisky, all too aware of the fact that with each passing hour a child had to suffer at the hands of a maniac. 

The clues back then had been plenty, forming a cohesive picture once Harry had dared to connect the dots. All victims had been abducted from the greater London area—Felix had never been too good at long-distance Apparition. Whenever they had been taken, Felix was off duty. That alone might have been completely coincidental, though, had there not been other leads: on three counts, the kidnapper had been seen and each time the description had fit Felix to a T. Harry had probably never drawn the right conclusions, had it not been for the misleading pieces of evidence. Felix had been the one to find them where the second before last victim had been discovered. A piece of jewellery, engraved with initials, and a faint magical trace that seemed to lead them toward Wales—conveniently tracing down along the train tracks to Cardiff. For about a week it had kept them investigating, before they had realized that it had been nothing but a distraction. Still, Harry had refused to believe that Felix could have been the one they were looking for. At least until no other possibility had opened itself when he'd looked through the files. 

"You could say that I just read the evidence right," Harry said and ran a hand through his hair. "There is nothing special about my deductions. It's just that no one else saw it."

"But that is it, Potter. No-one else bothered to look. You did. You noticed what others didn't. Hopefully, with your expertise, you will do so again."

Harry shrugged. "I notice some things that other might not. But certainly less than you do. I'm aware of your arrest rate. Plus, I've known you for most of my life. I know you hardly miss a thing. That's why I don't get why you need me."

Snape sighed and massaged his brow. For a while it seemed like he didn't want to reply, like he'd rather not discuss the topic further. But then he said: "Your compassion. I need you for your compassion. When I go through these files, I see scenes of crimes. I see blood and evidence and I see facts. They are usually what gets us the best result. But not with this killer. I can't find any logic behind his acts, and no discernible pattern, either. When you, however, look at these files, you look out for the people, for the victims."

Harry blinked. For some reason he hadn't expected that much honesty. What Snape had said was certainly true—and it was his curse. He could practically feel the victims' terror at what was done to them. Maybe because so many terrifying things had already happened to him. "Okay, let's go through this again and compare the cases. The MO can't be the same. Even if Felix wasn't dead, passed time would have affected his behaviour."

"Very well. In the old case, time of abduction varied due to Felix's schedule. Dumpsites varied, too, but appeared to have been chosen for convenience's sake. Marks on the body speak of extensive torture." 

He said all this with little inflection in his voice, almost as if he didn't care. Harry would have believed it, would have got angry, were it not for the glimmer in Snape's eyes that belied his indifference. "This time around, the abductions are just as irregular, or we would have been able to just tell everyone to stay inside during that time frame. Additionally, the abductions are done nationwide, telling us that the perpetrator is flexible and able to get around easily, possibly without arousing suspicion."

"Can't be any of the usual suspects then."

"If it were, we would have arrested him by now. First thing we did was interrogate everyone who was even remotely suspicious. We looked at the families, at friends and associates. We were very thorough and yet we didn't get very far."

Harry looked up from the files and looked at Snape with raised eyebrows. "Thorough? I know what that means, but to use those measures that early in a case—?"

"The methods were warranted as soon as we knew that we were at the least dealing with a copycat killer. But even Legilimency and Veritaserum didn't give us the monster behind this." 

Harry reached for his whisky again. After another sip, he concentrated on the files again. "You said the victims have been abducted nationwide. Yet the dump sites are concentrated around the greater London area."

Snape nodded. "Either he has his lair around here or he favours the area due to the population. The more inhabitants an area has, the more likely bodies will be found. Additionally, the shock effect and the media attention are greater in those cases."

"No traces found on the bodies that could tell us anything of value?"

"None that could tell us where they died." Snape waved his hand and a report from a healer floated towards Harry, who tried not to look at the pictures attached to it. If he'd ever had the stomach for the graphic details that came with this line of work, he'd lost it by now. "But we found differences in the method of torture, compared to the old case. Where Felix's victims had clear hesitation marks on their bodies, these here don't."

"So the person has no qualms about hurting or killing children. Possibly has done it before." Ice cubes clinked against each other in the glass. Harry needed a refill. "Are you thinking this person learned from Felix? Like an apprentice?"

"That, or Felix was the apprentice. Have you checked old cases against the one from ten years ago? I found nothing of the sort in your old notes."

Harry shook his head. "It didn't get that far. I asked for them to be delivered to me when I was getting nowhere with my research—or rather, when I was looking for angles that didn't suggest Felix as the murderer—but when they finally arrived on my desk Felix was already dead and I had already handed in my notice."

Snape frowned. "I'll make a fire call. Hopefully, those will be able to tell us more. If I'm right and this person has been around for longer, we might be looking at a completely different situation altogether." Snape got up and strode into the neighbouring room, while Harry pored over the files again. He had to find something.

******

When Snape returned, he looked as if he had aged several years. Immediately upon seeing him, Harry knew what had happened. Knew that he had failed yet another child.

"That's it!" Harry pushed away from the table, shaking. "That's more than I can take!" He flailed with his hands, not knowing what to do to make this pain go away, turned on the spot as if he was looking for something to hold on to.

"Potter—"

Harry shook his head. "No. This is too much."

"It's not your fault. Nor is it mine. By the time we started going through the case files, she was as good as dead."

"How would you know that for sure? Are the results already in? Have they already started working on her, casting spells to look at even the tiniest crevice of her?" Harry asked nastily. 

"You know it's what they have to do. But no, they haven't. But timing suggests—"

"Timing suggests?" Harry threw his hands in the air. "Does it suggest that she was tortured while we were speaking? That she probably begged for her mum and dad to come and save her? Does it suggest that she was yet another terrified child that we couldn't save, because this murderer is way ahead of us?" He strode to the door, but Snape grabbed his arm and held on tight.

"If you leave now, there's nothing that will help me stop the next abduction. The next murder."  
Harry struggled against Snape, tried pushing him away, but Snape's grip only tightened. He tried to swing at him with his free hand, but Snape caught that hand, too, and pushed him against the wood panelled wall. They breathed heavily as they stared at each other. "Don't make this about me," Harry said. "Please. I just—"

"I need help," Snape said between gritted teeth. "As much as I loathe to admit it. And I'm sorry about ripping open old wounds, but I'm need you involved. I can't let you go."

Harry swallowed thickly. He felt Snape pressed up against him, felt his pulse beating against his own skin, and he tried focussing on that. Slowly, he nodded. Snape let go of his hand and arm, but didn't step back, as if waiting for something. Harry took a deep breath and patted Snape's shoulder, then stepped around him and returned to the table. He refilled their glasses.

******

When Harry came to, his head was pounding and the room was spinning, even though his eyes were still shut. Nausea rolled over him in waves and his forehead was wet with cold sweat. "Fuck," he groaned and slowly rolled onto his side, trying to open his eyes. Light pierced his sight and he squeezed his eyes shut again. "Fuck."

From somewhere close he heard a grunt, confusing him at first. The he remembered last night. First, the drinks they had tossed back. Then, memories of what had led to that excessive consumption of whisky—files filled with death and torment. In the end, they had been too tired and too drunk to get anything else done, and Harry had crawled onto the couch, where he probably still was lying—a theory that could only be verified if he opened his eyes. From the noises in the room, Snape hadn't gone up to his bedroom, either.

Harry propped himself up and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to dispel tiredness and his hangover at the same time. He needed caffeine to clear his head, but wasn't sure his stomach would like coffee all that much. How long had it been since he had been this drunk? Possibly the last time he'd been faced with this case.

A wave of magic startled him out of his thoughts. "What was that?" He forced his eyes open, wincing at the sharpness of the light, but withstanding it all the same. He couldn't sense any threat, but the unexpected casting had sent his heart racing.

"My magic," Snape mumbled from the armchair that he apparently had transfigured to function as a bed. The spell hadn't been quite on point—the armchair looked like it was stuck between his original form and function and his new one, lumpy and almost not long enough. McGonagall would've given Snape a D at the most for that piece of work. "Are your senses off?"

Maybe they were. He should have recognised Snape's magic, should even have detected what spell had been used. But his skills were rusty and the hangover didn't help, either. "What did you do?"

"Breakfast," Snape grunted and sat up. "Tea." Tea sounded good. Snape cast another spell—this time Harry knew what it was. It didn't take long for two hangover potions to sail into Snape's hands. Grateful, Harry gulped it down, instantly relieved of the throbbing headache and queasiness.

Harry slowly got up and made his way to the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face. He stared at himself in a mirror that was going blind in places and wondered if he really could have aged this much since yesterday. He felt worn out, like jeans that had been worn so much that they were so thin in the back that they were almost dissolving. He wished Snape hadn't come to ask for his help, but knew, at the same time, it was too late to back out of this. If anything, his conscience would make him follow through.

When Harry returned to the living room, a pot of tea, toasted bread, eggs and bacon were waiting for him. Snape had already helped himself to two slices of bread spread thickly with jelly. Raspberry or strawberry, from the looks of it. In front of him lay the files they had looked through yesterday—Snape was already poring over them again. Harry sat down wordlessly and fixed himself a big cup of tea with milk and a sprinkle of sugar. He closed his eyes and drank, trying to ready himself for what was about to come. Snape wasn't one to grant himself or others any respite. 

Snape started talking once Harry's stomach had calmed down enough to accept the offering of bacon on toast. "The results from yesterday's discovery are in. No traces leading anywhere valuable, of course. The marks on the victim's body where the same as the ones on the others—no hesitation marks with this one, either. So we can conclude that all murders were committed by the same person."

Harry took a deeply breath. He could do this. "Because of the marks, only?"

"Basically, yes."

"Victimology is always the same?”

Snape shook his head. "The only thing they have in common is that they were children, roughly the same age."

"How about the rest of the findings? Location analyses? Traces of magic? Clothing?"

Snape slid a stack of parchment over to Harry. "This was delivered while you were in the bathroom. It's everything they have found so far." 

Harry looked through everything, then took out his wand and summoned a map where they had marked places where the children had been kidnapped and where their bodies had been found. There was a swooshing sound coming from the fireplace and Snape stuck his head into the flames that had just turned green. While he talked to whoever else was on the other side, Harry added the newest victim to the map. He stared at it, hoping to find out something, but he didn't get any further, no matter how long he looked. He jumped when Snape threw down a thick envelope on the table. "What's this?" 

"I asked our research personnel to comb through the old files you had requested ten years ago. They sent over those that might be connected to our case."

Harry opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of parchment. He skimmed the info the research team had selected and raised his eyebrows. "I can't believe it." Snape moved behind him and looked over Harry's shoulder. Together, they read reports of murders that had never been connected to each other—until now. Murders where the victimology was far from what they were seeing now, was all over the place, really, but where the injuries told the tale: Whoever was killing children now must've started his disgusting work a long time ago. As early as twenty years ago, when the first known victim had been found. Maybe the Aurors would have discovered a connection between the cases, if it hadn't been for the events at Hogwarts—the final task of the Triwizard Tournament had taken place only two days before the first victim had been found and the department must've had bigger things to worry about than strange markings on a murder victim. The years following that had seen enough death and destruction for such commonalities to be easily overlooked. 

"Whoever is committing these crimes now has started years ago, killing irregularly as far as we can see," Snape said, frowning.

"He or she must've taught Felix, if you want to call it that." 

"Yes. Then Felix took over killing and did it rapidly, eventually resulting in him getting caught in the end." Snape straightened his posture and massaged the back of his neck. "But why did the first perpetrator stop in the first place? Why did he or she take on an apprentice, if you will, and step to the sidelines?"

"Maybe he—I'm going to say 'he', because I have a feeling we're dealing with a man. Felix wasn't one to take orders from a woman. Maybe _he_ was arrested. Or got incapacitated. Maybe he was being watched."

"I can't imagine how."

"The public eye?" Harry supposed, pouring another cup of tea for himself. He pulled the map closer again and started adding the newly discovered dumpsites to it. 

"That seems highly unlikely. If he was in the public eye, he wouldn't be doing this now. It's more likely that he was unable to follow through with what he had started."

"But why? What could possibly—" Harry stopped talking when he saw the look on Snape's face. His eyes followed Snape's gaze to the map. "What do you see?"

Snape stepped closer and traced along the red dots with his finger. "The symbol of Azkanoth."

Harry looked at him questioningly. He'd never heard of such a thing, but Snape surely wasn't inventing occult-looking symbols. Snape rolled his eyes as if he'd read Harry's thoughts, and summoned a book. After leafing through it for a couple of seconds, he put it down in front of Harry. Snape had opened it to show an illustration. From what the caption said on old copperplate engraving was: The symbol of Azkanoth.

"It's no wonder that nobody recognised it until now. Only with the old cases, the point of origin is visible on the map," Snape said, pointing. "The symbol isn't one commonly known, either. As its nature is so gruesome, it isn't taught in school—not even in advanced History of Magic classes."

"What is the meaning behind it?" Harry asked, opening the next page. The book was in Latin.

"The symbol itself is connected to the underworld—it is supposed to be a door that can be opened. I suspect that the torture and the killings are part of a necromantic ritual. Maybe he wants to open that alleged door."

Harry swallowed thickly. "Is that even possible?"

Snape raised an eyebrow at him and then said, "With what we have seen so far, do you think it so impossible?"

Harry shook his head. He opened the page with the engraving again, compared it to the map. "There are still some spots missing."

"Yes, murders that still need to be committed. I don't doubt he is already planning his next move."

"Then we have to do something now!" Harry jumped up, his chair toppling over and almost hitting Snape's feet. "Look, we know what spots he intends drop his next victims at!" He pointed at the engraving and the map. "We need to go there and—"

"And what? What do you expect to find at a drop site that hasn't been used yet?" Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest. "We don't know where he takes his victims, but he certainly doesn't kill them at those spots. Felix had a place where he took all of them, didn't he?"

"Yes, but it helped me catch him in the end," Harry said. "Doesn't mean this killer hasn't learned from Felix's mistakes. Maybe we can find something at those sites, maybe we can find evidence."

Snape still wasn't convinced. "Maybe you forgot, but you are neither an Unspeakable nor an Auror, not anymore. I can't take you any place where you might possibly be in danger."

"Since when have you bothered about playing by the rules?" Harry scoffed. He might be no choirboy himself, but Snape had always used situations to his advantage. Now Harry was here to be used—he had the expertise to help find this murderer.

"You don't know me, Potter," Snape said between gritted teeth. "Besides, what good are your rusty duelling skills to me? Most wand-waving you have done these past years was for broom-making and household spells."

"Up yours, Snape," Harry said, feeling slightly hurt no matter how right Snape was. He had thought he had earned the man's respect. 

"I'd rather not see you hurt," Snape added then, almost making Harry gasp in surprise.

"You won't. We'll just be investigating."

Snape rubbed his hands over his face and looked at the book, at the map, at the files strewn all over his dining table. He must have recognised Harry's suggestion as their best shot for the moment, because he nodded. Stepping closer to the table again, he said, "Well then, where exactly will I have to Apparate to?"

******

The first two places that they visited didn't get them anywhere in terms of their investigation. The border of a suburb that had seen better days and a spot that wasn't far from a designated dog park. Neither place had felt particularly malevolent, nor had there been any particular places nearby where it would be easy to abduct a child to without anyone noticing—not even with advanced magical means.

The third spot, however, looked more promising—in a bad way. Snape had Apparated them to a forest, near a campsite that was deserted at this time of year. From the overgrown grass and the dismal-looking hut near the entrance, the campsite wasn't exactly a tourist favourite. 

Harry shivered and rubbed his arms, hoping to dispel the cold that had nothing to do with the actual temperatures in this area. Being here gave him a bad feeling. His nerves were on edge and he held his wand tight in his hand, trying to be ready for any surprise they might stumble across, all the while knowing that he was anything but ready.

"Stay close, Potter," Snape said as they walked slowly down what had once been a path. Harry didn't need to be told twice. "He's been here already." 

Harry didn't need to ask how Snape knew. He had no doubt that this was where the killer would be taking his next victim—he must've cased out the place thoroughly and found it deserted enough for his purposes. Muggle repellent spells would be easy to put in place, and no wizard or witch had any reason to stumble across this spot. It was an ideal kill-ground. The sudden sound of flapping wings startled Harry and he whirled around, wand extended.

"Potter," Snape's presence next to him kept him from hexing whatever was nearby, kept him from trembling too much to aim straight. "Just a bird."

Harry nodded, then squinted towards where he was pointing his wand. "Did you just see that flicker of light, too?"

"No." Snape sounded doubtful. Before Harry had the chance to say something, though, Snape's wristband gave off a chime. The sound was so loud in this forsaken place that it made Harry jump again. Fearfully, he looked at Snape's wristband as the other man unlocked it with a spell and read the message he had just received. He didn't have to say anything—Harry knew that it could only mean one thing. Another child had gone missing.

Harry turned back to where he had seen that flicker of light. Without waiting for Snape, he marched forward, heart beating hard and heavy in his chest. He tried to think of the duelling spells that he had learned so long ago, but the only thing that would come to his mind was that there was a child in grave danger right now. He heard Snape's brisk steps right behind him, grateful for his presence but not daring to turn around, believing that Snape would make him turn back, make him leave if he did. He needed to see this through, to save that child.

By the time Snape overtook Harry with his wide steps they were already too close for him to say something—they might be heard. They continued onwards, through bushes that became thicker, pushing low hanging branches aside while trying to make as little noise as possible. Then they heard something themselves: A hollow sounding murmur, pierced with weak whimpers. 

Harry broke through the underwood before his brain had the chance to catch up with him, to remind himself of his training. If it had, he would have known to survey the situation first before charging in. If it had, he wouldn't suddenly be standing in the middle of a clearing, eyes transfixed to a child gagged and bound to wooden stakes that had been hammered into the ground. He swallowed thickly and looked up, suddenly finding himself at the end of a gnarled wand. _Blackthorn_ , he registered in the back of his mind.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" 

Harry forced himself to look away from the wand and at the man holding it. He was old—grey hair thinning, skin sagging—and blood was sticking to his face. Harry had never seen him before. He hadn't even been a blip on the suspect-radar. And yet, Harry couldn't keep his eyes from wandering towards the child—a boy. Chest exposed, he lay there, still breathing and eyes terrified. There were cuts on his chest and stomach and a bloodied knife way lying nearby where the man must've dropped it when Harry had stormed the clearing. 

"A spectator. Unwanted, but not unappreciated," the man said, grinning madly. "Maybe two sacrifices are just what I need. One to replenish, one to rip open the structures." He motioned with his wand for Harry to move over to the child.

Harry swallowed thickly and did what he was told. But he couldn't lie down, couldn't let the man incapacitate him further. Snape would have a worse time rescuing them if he did. He needed to distract him. Harry licked his lips. "Rip open the structures of what?" he made himself ask. His voice didn't sound like himself. In return he received a frenzied stare, as if the man wasn't used to his victims asking questions. Maybe he wasn't. The children had to be even more terrified than Harry was feeling now and he was already having trouble making sense of the myriad thoughts flitting through his head right now. 

"Reality!" the man all but screamed.

"Is that what Felix did ten years ago? Did he try to rip open the structures of reality, too?"

"Felix?" The man squinted at Harry, then motioned for him to throw his wand onto the ground. "Felix failed. Felix was a bad investment." He fixated Harry with his stare, the child all but forgotten for the moment. "You have his blood on your hands."

"How—?"

But the man didn't answer apart from sporting a nasty grin. "Lie down." He spelled four wooden stakes to float up in the air. 

"No."

With the tiniest flick of the man's wand, one of the stakes shot towards Harry and impaled itself in his thigh. Harry cried out at the same time as his legs gave out under him. "You _will_ do what I say."

It took all Harry had not to focus on the pain of the injury, but to keep his eyes on the attacker. Think of the child, he told himself as hot blood ran from the wound on his leg. Where the hell was Snape? Harry's wand lay too far from him to grab it quickly enough and still have time to defend himself against the hex that would surely follow. 

"Why children?" Harry pressed out.

"Their energy is fresh, innocent," the man said as he slowly moved around Harry, waving his hands in the air in a complicated pattern. "Their magic barely showing itself openly, unused and unharnessed. So much better to use to break through than adult magic. Adults who fight exhaust themselves trying to defend themselves." He stopped in front of Harry and cocked his head. "But you? You have a tremendous amount of magic inside of you. I won't use you for the ritual, but rather for myself. To restore what I used to cast these spells."

"You know, this isn't the first time I've heard something like this." Strangely enough, Harry wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't sure if it had to do with this madman sporting Voldemort-esque shit, the adrenaline or rather if it was the blood loss, but his fear was gone. He turned his head towards the boy and gave him a smile that was supposed to be reassuring. "Let me guess, this whole procedure is to give you power." He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, trying to manage the pain and force it into the back of his mind. When he opened them again, he saw movement behind the man. Snape. 

"What it is or isn't, is none of your concern, as you won't be alive to see the effects of it," said the man rather matter-of-factly. He raised his wand again and waved it around in circles. Vines crept up from the ground, snaking around Harry's ankles, pulling viciously, and reaching for his arms. He tried batting them away, but they grabbed for his left arm and—

There was no shouted incantation, just energy rushing into the clearing like thunder rolling in, hard and unforgiving. Pebbles raised from the ground as the spell hit the man in the back, immobilising him as an electrical current seemed to be running through him. 

Harry summoned his wand and pointed it right at his attacker, shaking loose the vines that had lost their power. "Snape?"

Thick chains appeared and wound themselves around the man, then Snape stalked out of the darkness that made up the forest. "I have called for reinforcements and a healer team. They should be here soon." He moved over to the boy and cut away the bindings, before checking his vital signs. "You'll be alright. We'll have you out of here and with your family in no time," Snape said, sounding surprisingly gentle. 

"Where were you?" Harry asked, trying to catch his breath.

"Gathering enough energy for this spell," Snape said, kneeling down next to Harry and checking his injury. "You'll be alright, too."

******

Once the child had been brought to safety and the murderer sent to headquarters to be thoroughly questioned and arraigned, and Harry's leg had been healed, Snape Disapparated them both. They landed in front of Harry's house. There was the soft scent of lilacs in the air and the wind rustled leaves softly and calmly in the night. Here, it felt as if the past 48 hours hadn't happened at all, as if it had merely been an eerie, awful dream. Silently, they stood there, not moving away from each other, not knowing what to do.

Harry felt lightheaded. His leg was still stinging a little and his heartbeat hadn't returned to normal. He reached for Snape's hand to steady himself and Snape squeezed his ever so slightly. Looking for the right thing to say, Harry found only a plea: "Promise me something: Next time you come by, don't bring me a case. Bring dinner."

**Author's Note:**

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